Cure for Loneliness
by Luckynumber28
Summary: He had a sweetheart back home, but in Buck Compton's arms, Lucille found it difficult to remember that fact.
1. Moonlight

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this and mean no disrespect to the veterans the miniseries was based on. I was merely inspired by the era and the story as told by HBO.**

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**England  
Summer 1944**

"You know he has a sweetheart, right?"

Lucille stirred, her eyes jerking down to her black heels. She noticed a run in her stocking at her ankle and winced, sitting hard in the chair directly in front of Ruby. Gingerly, she tucked the unseemly tear into her shoe.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes, I did." Lucille narrowed her eyes into Ruby's disapproving glare, "I already knew it."

"This isn't going to end well."

Ruby's tone wasn't as much judgmental as it was wary. Lucille blew a stray strand of poker straight hair from her face as she sat up. She didn't reply, rather idly rifled through her purse for her lipstick.

"Do what you want," Ruby grunted, throwing a withering stare towards the dart game in the corner, "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know what I'm doing, Ruby." Lucille snapped without looking at her, "Please stop acting like my mother."

Ruby pulled her chair closer, "Look at me, Lucie."

Rolling her eyes, Lucille did as her friend requested.

"Whatever he has told you, I'm sure it all sounds very nice. But you need to be realistic." Ruby reached out and grasped Lucille's hand, "Still, whatever happens, I will be here."

"To say that you told me so?" Lucille smirked.

"No, to help you pick up the pieces if necessary. You would do the same for me." Ruby tucked a strand of jet black hair behind the shell of her ear, her eyes the color of syrup in the dim light of the pub.

Lucille's nodded with a faint smile, "I appreciate that."

Her gaze trailed over Ruby's shoulder. One of the uniformed paratroopers sneaked up behind her friend's chair. Lucille let go of Ruby's fingers as he knelt down beside the table.

"How lonely you ladies look over here," Corporal Donald Hoobler exclaimed, his boyish grin bringing a light shade of rose to Ruby's high cheek bones, "I can't imagine what any of these morons could be thinking leaving you on your lonesome."

"Maybe it's because I'm not interested in any of them." Ruby replied, reaching out and smoothing a thumb over his silver jump wings, "Where did you come from?"

"Busted through those last few soft jobs as fast as I could," He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Ruby's.

Ruby smiled, her eyes drifting closed, "Good thing too because I was just about to give you up for dead, Mister."

Lucille stood. The two of them had forgotten her presence; too wrapped up in the fling that had started two weeks earlier when the 101st had returned from Normandy.

"I need some air." She murmured without waiting for a reply as she made her way to the door.

She could feel his eyes on her as she passed by the dart game.

Stretching out her fingers, Lucille pushed open the front door of the pub and meandered out into the summer night. It was warm for England. She had become so used to the damp evenings. A tepid breeze raced along the lane in front of her, the towering hedges rustling in the dark.

Taking a deep breath, Lucille wondered what her mother would think of her decisions in the past week. She could hardly believe it had only been five days.

The door opened behind her; laughter, smoke and warmth rushing out briefly into the peace Lucille had been enjoying. He shut the door and paused a good six feet away. In the pitch night, the blackout silencing all light, Lucille could barely make out his broad silhouette. With one large hand in his pocket, he tapped the glowing end of his cigar.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay out here." He stated, his tone uneasy.

Lucille brushed the back of her fingers along her damp cheek. She hadn't realized that she had been crying. She was thankful there was no way for him to know it.

"I'm fine." She was relieved when her voice remained even despite the miserable ache in her throat, "It was just hot in there."

He brought the cigar to his mouth and took a long drag, "You seemed upset. Was your friend angry? I had gathered that she guessed what happened- you know, the other night."

"Yeah, I know." Lucille repeated, crossing her arms over her chest and kicking at the curb, "She doesn't want to see me get… confused."

"Confused?"

"It's nicer than saying hurt."

_The lieutenant hadn't moved from the bar as his friends trudged towards the door. Lucille had shifted under his sharp blue gaze, looking down at her half empty pint. It had been her second and already she sensed the familiar lightness of the alcohol take hold in her veins._

"_I have really enjoyed tonight, Lucille."_

"_Me too_._" She answered, feeling Ruby's inquisitive glance as she and Hoobler ambled past._

"_Come on, you two." The bartender barked, running a damp cloth along the bar, "You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."_

He was silent, his breath hissing with smoke, "I don't want to see you hurt either."

"Then please Buck, let's just call this whole week by its rightful name; a mistake." Lucille's voice cracked.

She cringed as he rapidly closed the distance between them. Lieutenant Buck Compton let the half lit cigar drop to the ground. He didn't even bother taking the time to crush it under his heel, rather cradled her face in his hands.

"Christ, Lucie are you-"

"Crying?" Lucille snorted, closing her eyes as he laced his fingers through her hair, "Maybe."

"_If you like, you can come in for a night cap and a cigarette." Lucille bit her lip, her heart pounding as she stood with one foot on the front walk and the other on the step, "There is a radio on the back porch too."_

_They had only been innocently talking for hours now. After walking the quaint country lanes by the light of the full moon, it was almost one in the morning. She could tell he wasn't ready for the night to be over either. However, she felt his hesitation in the dark. He had a sweetheart back in California. Her name was Celia. The memory stung so she buried it deep. They had only been talking, nothing more._

_Buck took a step backwards then paused, "Just for one drink. My legs are getting tired."_

_Lucille let out a relieved chuckle and opened the front door, "I'm not surprised. It's been almost two hours since the pub closed."_

"_Two hours? Christ, I hadn't even realized."_

Lucille wrapped her fingers around the sleeves of his uniform, trying to gather the gumption to push away his hands.

He exhaled slowly, "Please don't be upset. God, it just rips me up."

"Why did you come in for that night cap anyway?"

Buck shifted, "I thought it was because I was lonely."

"Wasn't it? Loneliness?" She breathed.

_The soft glow of the radio shone on the floorboards of the small back porch. The fluid tones of Glenn Miller's 'Moonlight Serenade' poured over them as smooth as the unfinished glasses of whiskey on the wicker table._

_He unhooked one of her stockings and peeled it down her thigh. She could hear the faint sound of lovers' laughter drift down from Ruby's room where she and Hoobler were cozied up. __If anything it drove her need for Buck even more. His breathing grew huskier as she pressed herself into his solid form. He kissed her hard._

"I thought it was at the time," Buck reasoned slowly, lifting his face, "But then after that first night-"

"Buck, you can't possibly know what you are feeling right now." Lucille pushed his hands away, "Loneliness, guilt-"

"Love?"

Lucille's train of thought stopped cold, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying what if what has been happening between us is more than just a cure for loneliness?"

"Is that what you will tell her when you write to California to break it off?" Lucille couldn't help snapping. She took a wide step back, roughly rubbing her cheeks with the heel of her hand, "Don't talk to me about love until you can without guilt."

Buck's dark figure was motionless. Shaking her head, Lucille strode down the lane away from him into the starless night.

_It was four in the morning but Buck Compton still hadn't slept. Lucie was curled up next to him under a worn yellow quilt. Propping his head up on his hand, he reached out and brushed the veil of coffee brown hair over her shoulder. She hadn't told him but he knew it had been her first time. Why she had chosen to share it with him was beyond his understanding._

_Celia had been with him since they were freshmen in college. Things had become strained before he left for training but they had been doing better since he had arrived in England. The letters back and forth over the Atlantic were consistent and he carried the picture he had of them in his jacket pocket into combat. But there was more than just a physical distance growing between them. He could feel it in her words, in the very penmanship of her letters. His own heart had grown weary. He knew they weren't the same people they had been at 18._

_Buck reached out and wrapped an arm around Lucille's waist, pulling her in to fit the cavity of his body. They knitted together so well, it was almost uncanny. Somewhere out in the trees beyond the open window, the purr of a dove was rising as the light shifted to grey. Dawn was close. Closing his hand on the curve of her hip, Buck slept soundly._


	2. Apples

**Author's Note: Thank y'all for the reviews! They are really appreciated!**  
**LostInMiddleEarth: I have enjoyed your story on here as well! Thank you so much, I'm glad you have enjoyed it!**  
**Crazyforkasey: yeah I agree, I was a little stunned by the lack of stories on here about Buck as well so I thought I might add to the pot.  
**

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Lucille shut the door to the Frigidaire and bit into the apple. Wandering aimlessly over to the backdoor, she leaned up against the frame and crossed an arm over her middle. She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs.

"Ruby, we are already running late." Hoobler hollered as he entered the kitchen.

He swept his uniform coat off the back of the chair with an exasperated sigh. She glanced over, lifting an eyebrow and motioning to the ice box.

"Help yourself if you are hungry," She grinned, "Ruby might be a while."

Hoobler scoffed, "That's putting it nicely."

"If I remember correctly, I warned you about her little issue with time management."

"You didn't give me the details though," He leaned over the table towards her and lowered his voice, "The woman has been getting ready for almost an hour. We were supposed to be there at 7."

"Well if someone didn't keep on distracting me, this wouldn't be an issue now, would it?" Ruby trotted down the steps, her red lips pursed and gaze blasé.

"Who me? Distracting?" Hoobler winked at Lucille.

The Corporal held out his arm, Ruby fitting to his side like a puzzle piece. Giving a tight, obligatory smile to her roommate, Lucille's eyes shot away as though she had been stung.

"Give me one more second, Donald." Ruby murmured, patting her sweetheart on the breast pocket of his jacket.

Hoobler sighed and gave her a peck on the forehead, "Fine."

As he shut the front door behind him, Ruby took a step towards Lucille who had her back to the room. Peering out the mesh screen, she was watching the breeze stir the wildflowers that lined the high hedges around their backyard.

They had been lucky that Ruby's parents knew a family in the village who had a house for rent. Upon arriving in England from Kansas, Lucille Swain had become close with British nurse Ruby Stalwhite. The two of them had decided to stay and nurse in England instead of venturing into mainland Europe. Both sets of parents had been overjoyed by the decision.

"Please come with us," Ruby tried once more, "I'm sure it wouldn't be as bad as you are thinking. I have seen him at the Pub only a handful of times recently. He might not even be there."

"It's too much for me," Lucille snorted, her stomach tightening at the thought of facing Buck Compton, "I just can't stop seeing him standing there like an idiot."

"He is kind of an idiot."

Lucille smirked, "You have to say that because you're on my side."

"Yeah maybe," Ruby shot her a grin, "Come on, old lady. What do you say?"

Lucille heaved a sigh, "You said Hoobler has been talking about them leaving again soon?"

"They have had several drops cancelled recently but he said the brass is itching to get them into action."

"I promise you this, Miss Stalwhite. The very _minute_ we get news of them leaving, I will head down town with you for a pint."

"I'll probably be needing one then, eh?" Ruby's eyes lost their joyous crinkles at the corners as her mouth tightened.

"Ruby, nothing is going to happen to your man." Lucille laid a hand on her shoulder, "Don't think about any of that. Go have a good time for me."

"When did this conversation turn into you comforting me?"

"They usually end up that way." Lucille gave her a little push towards the door, "Now scoot before Hoobler smokes through a whole pack of Lucky Strikes out there."

The front door swung open, "Ruby Stalwhite!"

"Coming!"

She could hear their murmured bickering fade as they made their way from the front door. Lucille sunk her teeth one more time into the unmarked green underside of the apple then tossed it into the waste bin.

It was late when there came a heavy knock at the door.

The sound drew Lucille out of a light sleep where she sat by the radio on the back porch. Her last cigarette still glowed in the crystal ashtray next to her. She had picked up the habit since living with Ruby, something her strict, religious mother never would have allowed. Between the smoking and the sex, she could only imagine Mrs. Swain's horror at what her baby girl had been up to in England.

Tightening the sash around her rose silk dressing gown, she padded with bare feet down the hall. She could only assume it was either Ruby having forgotten her key or Hoobler trying to get her drunken friend up to her room.

She definitely didn't expect it to be Buck Compton standing bleary eyed on their front step. He leaned forward, propping his muscular forearm on the door frame. Lucille's heart careened up into her throat.

"What are you doing here?" She glowered, crossing her arms over her chest.

He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket with a flourish and presented it to her. Lucille glanced at his hand and then met his blood shot eyes, their sharp, arctic blue brilliant despite his inebriated state.

"Go ahead," He prompted, giving the paper a wave, "Please."

Lucille sighed and snatched the paper from his thick fingers. Without another word, she walked back towards the kitchen. He followed, setting his cap on the kitchen table. Without asking, he opened the Frigidaire. Lucille unfolded what looked to be a letter. She read it silently, playing with the loose end of the long braid over her shoulder. Buck stood up straight, tossing an apple in the air like a baseball. Lucille's jaw dropped slightly as she peered up at him past the paper. He flashed her his million dollar, golden boy smile.

"So what do you say to that, Swain?" He slurred as he took a loud bite out of the apple.

"Did she send this to you first?" Lucille asked, her hand dropping to her side.

Buck leaned back against the table and threw the apple into the air once more, "Does it matter?"

"Yes." Lucille snapped.

She laid the paper on the table, the heat rising in her face as he stood there drunk in her kitchen, eating her food. His ego knew no bounds. She had known that getting involved with a jock out of UCLA was a mistake.

"What difference does it make, Lucie?" He spouted out of the side of his full mouth, his brow furrowing, "It's over and I'm glad."

"Really? You are glad?" Lucille crossed her arms, "Then tell me why you have managed to get yourself sauced and then came straight here?"

She marched over to the Frigidaire and slammed the door that he had left ajar. If this conversation continued much longer, there was a good chance he would end up with an andiron thrown at his big head.

"I wanted to talk to you," He set the apple down as she leveled him with a steady glare, "Ah Christ, Lucie. I was going to send her a letter first but I didn't know exactly- well it's a hard thing to tell someone."

"She seems to have managed it quite efficiently." Lucille barked, "This whole thing has been a mess from the beginning. Perhaps it's best if we dropped it-"

Buck barreled forward and grasped her by the shoulders. Despite the hostility humming in her brain, Lucille couldn't find it in her to protest as he kissed her. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and the other around her waist as she melted into him. He tasted of smoke and weak British beer.

"I won't be your consolation prize, Buck Compton." She murmured into his mouth.

Dipping down, he hooked an elbow under her knees and picked her up with ease. He nudged his nose against hers with a heart rending grin.

"You could never be anyone's consolation prize, Lucie Swain."


	3. Field

Overhead, a plane carved through the clouds in the quiet, Indian summer blue. Other than the drone of the engines high in the September sky, there was no other sign that there was anyone else in the world at that moment but them.

"The name of your first pet."

"My first pet?" Lucille peered up at Buck quizzically, her head resting on his thigh.

Buck propped up his other leg, peeling the wrapper off a Hershey bar, "Yeah, your first pet. You know; dog, cat, cow-"

"Really? A cow?"

"You never know with you Midwesterners," Buck smirked as he bit off a piece of chocolate.

"Well city boy, for your information my first pet was a housecat." Lucille closed her eyes as Buck's fingers meandered through her hair, taking out the pins that held back the strands, "And her name was Momma."

Buck snorted, "Momma, huh."

"She had a litter soon after we got her."

"And Momma was the best you could do?"

"I was five! And you did any better?"

"In fact, yes." Buck replied, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the sloping fields that spread out golden green with early autumn, "Hank is an excellent name for a bull dog."

Lucille scoffed. After a moment, she gave a short gasp and her eyes flew open. She sat up abruptly and reached for her purse. Her loose hair fell around her shoulders like a shawl.

"I almost forgot and if I don't do this now, I probably won't remember to," She mumbled, digging through the side pockets of her embroidered, cloth handbag.

"Can't imagine why," Buck commented drily.

He drew up behind her so that she sat with her back against his barrel of a chest. She leaned back, her head resting against his collarbone as she retrieved a sealed envelope. She held it up.

"Ruby got this from Hoobler," Lucille explained as he took it from her hand, "It was from that first day."

_Setting up a ball game in a Cricket field had been a challenge but the boys from Easy Company soon succeeded. The beautiful July day had been too inviting not to grab their gloves and bats from home and do their best to pretend they were on their own soil._

_Buck tore off the catcher's mask and grinned as he caught the throw Swifty sent high over Liebgott's head as he raced to home plate. Buck shot a triumphant grin at the skin and bones paratrooper out of San Francisco. Joe Liebgott gave an exasperated groan as he trotted defeated towards the boys on the sidelines._

_Malarkey picked up the bat. He glanced over his shoulder and let out a low whistle. Buck threw the ball to Johnny Martin at the makeshift pitcher's mound and looked over to where Malarkey's gaze rested. Don Hoobler was trotting across the short grass towards a girl in a lime green sundress. She held a straw hat to her dark head as he picked her up and twirled her around, earning a gleeful squeal._

"_Is _that_ the skirt that Hoob has been telling us about?" Malarkey let the tip of the bat rest in the dry dirt, "The nurse from London?"_

"_I guess so," Buck tipped back the bill of his hat as Hoobler planted a kiss on the black haired, British beauty, "Christ, she looks like Hedy Lamarr from here."_

"_Who'd have thought a guy as goofy as Hoob could land a broad like that," Malarkey snorted as Buck who shook his head in bewilderment._

"_Hey Malark, put your tongue back in your mouth and lets play some ball!" Johnny Martin shouted._

Buck tore open the envelope and carefully took out the photograph, a grin pulling at his lips.

"I had forgotten about this," He chuckled, holding the picture up to the light and admiring it.

"I hadn't." Lucille played with his collar button by her ear thoughtfully, "So you are certain they will be sending you boys out again soon?"

Buck tapped the side of the photo on his knee, his smile waning, "Any day now."

"_You sure you don't want to take a crack at it," Hoobler nudged his sweetheart's shoulder playfully, "Come on, Ruby. It'll be fun."_

"_I'm quite sure thank you," She laughed, her fine accent holding the audience of enlisted boys captive, "I am fine right here watching."_

_There came a hoot as Bull Randleman hit what only could be called a homerun way past Christenson in left field. After the play was finished, Buck jogged over to meet Hoobler's new flame. Like the others present, he was tongue tied as he shook hands with Ruby Stalwhite._

"_You wouldn't happen to have any friends… Sisters?" Came the inevitable inquiry from George Luz, tossing the ball back in forth in his hands._

"_We arrived only recently so we haven't met too many others yet, but I do have my flat mate."_

"_Flat mate?" Buck arched an eyebrow at Hoobler._

"_Roommate." The Corporal replied with a shrug, "I'm just starting to get the hang of how these Limeys speak."_

"_Careful there, Yank." Ruby swatted him on the shoulder with her hand bag, "Yes, the other girl who lives with me. We met and trained together in London."_

"_And is she from there also?"_

"_Nope, she's a Yank like you boys. Out of… I believe it's called Wichita, Kansas?" She threw Hoobler an enquiring glance, "Or close to it anyhow. She's from the countryside, I know that much. She's meeting me here actually, once she gets out of church."_

_Buck snorted, "Is she Catholic?"_

"_Protestant. Her father is a minister."_

_There came a collective groan from the group present._

"_What's wrong with that?" Ruby asked Hoobler who wrapped an arm around her shoulders._

"_They're worried she's a stiff."_

"_Oh," Ruby grinned, "Not that it should matter to them, she's much too good for any of you boys."_

"_That's exactly what we're scared of," Luz ran a hand through his hair with a smirk._

_Ruby glanced over her shoulder, "Ah! Well you can decide for yourselves because here she comes."_

Lucille winced as she stood, her ankle bending clumsily.

"Where are you going?"

She regained her balance, straightening out her skirt with a quick, tight lipped smile in his direction, "We should be getting back. It's getting late and that wash needs to come off the line before dark."

Buck rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head with a sigh, "Would you please tell me what's bothering you?"

She knelt down on the quilt they had spread over the grass under the tree. Quietly, she gathered her hair pins without looking at him and tamed the feathery strands back from her face. He peered up and watched her for a moment.

"You should leave it down," He commented, brushing off his hat, "I like it down."

Lucille snorted, "What would people think of me? Looking so disheveled walking into town with you. What would they think we were up to out here?"

Buck leaned forward, burrowing his face into the arc of her neck, "Well they would be right, wouldn't they?"

_Lucille Swain from Wichita, Kansas wasn't as beautiful as Ruby but there was something about her that drew others in. Perhaps it was how she threw her head back effervescently as she laughed or winked like a movie starlet. Buck didn't know how she acted at home, but there was something about her air that reminded him of a felon out on parole. She truly enjoyed the freedom the war had gifted her._

_George Luz was doing his spot-on imitation of Captain Sobel when Buck left the game once more to meet Ruby's flat mate. Lucille wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she rocked with amusement on the grass. Luz subtly scooted an inch closer to her. Buck studied her for a moment, trying to see the Midwestern Minister's daughter in her. He almost fell back a step when she looked up at him directly, her teeth so white in a smile that left him winded._

"_And who are you?" She asked pleasantly, shielding her denim blue eyes._

_He knelt down, "You can call me Buck. You girls out of Kansas ever play ball back in Wichita?"_

"_Not once in my life," She answered, without breaking eye contact with him, "But I could give it a go."_


	4. Heroic

Walking down the road leading back to the village, Lucille released Buck's hand and made a show of straightening her dress.

"Lucie, tell me what's going on. Is it because of my leaving?" He asked, clipping the side of her arm with his knuckles.

Lucille rubbed the back of her neck, "I know you can't tell me where they are sending you. I can't lie though, it would make it easier."

"I can't tell you." He answered succinctly, tucking his hands in his pockets, "Please don't worry though. Not while I'm still here."

"I keep on remembering all those stories you told me about Normandy." She lifted her eyes to the sunset, "Please don't take any unnecessary risks when you leave."

"The soldiers we were then aren't who we are today, baby. Things we did on D-Day, the majority of them were stupid risks that we didn't even think about until later. We want in and out this time." Buck kicked a stone down into a ditch, "Believe me, I have no interest in being a hero. To be honest, the one you might want to be concerned for is Hoobler."

Lucille shivered, "Why do you say that?"

"I don't think I know anyone else in the company who is more in his element then when he's in battle." Buck shook his head, "It's scary actually."

Somewhere overhead in the twilight, a raven let out its choppy warble as it traversed the lavender grey sky. Lucille shuddered at the sound. Buck heaved a sigh as they approached the blue painted, metal fence surrounding her home.

"Lucie, you can't let this weigh on you." He reached out and grasped her elbow.

She didn't fight his embrace as he pulled her into his arms and laid his cheek on the top of her head. Her body relaxed and she closed her eyes, trying to burn his scent into her memory.

_Buck suppressed a chuckle as she attempted to position herself in front of the plate. Her feet were awkward and hands too low on the bat. He stood from his catcher's stance._

"_You weren't kidding when you said you've never played." He moved her hands._

"_My mother didn't think it was appropriate." Lucille shrugged gawkily._

_He nudged her feet with his into a more stable posture and gently lifted her elbows._

"_Don't be forgetting about sweet Celia now, Buck!" Luz hollered from short stop, "Best be keeping those hands to yourself."_

_Buck grimaced as he glanced up at Lucille. A light shade of rose raced up her neck and into her cheeks as she met his eyes with a cringe._

"_Keep your eyes on the ball, okay?" He offered with a halfhearted chuckle._

_As her face slowly lit up with a nod, he found it difficult to look away. He turned curtly, grinning like a fool and shaking his head. He crouched behind the plate. She missed the first time._

"_It's alright, good swing." He coaxed, tossing it back to Johnny._

"_Swing batter batter!" George Luz hooted._

"_Never mind him, just stay focused."_

_At his encouraging tone, her shoulders loosened. The next pitch came in low and slow. She got a piece of it, nothing impressive but enough to send the basemen scrambling. Lucille barked out an excited laugh and raced towards first base. Buck stood and tugged off his catcher's mask as he watched the ball bounce towards center field._

_He let his attention drift back to her, running in her practical church shoes. Pieces of hair had fallen out of place and drifted over her shoulders as she peered back at the ball still in play. The mid-afternoon sun hit her face. She had been biting her bottom lip but broke into a victorious grin as she reached the plate. Buck knew then that for the rest of his life, he would remember the girl from Wichita with a smile that had the force of a grenade behind it._

_After Luz got her out the next play, Lucille jogged off the field. The other men threw their gloves at the guilty short stop in protest._

"_Leave the boy alone, he got me fair and square," She hollered over her shoulder as she strode with arms swinging towards Ruby on the grass._

_Hoobler came up to bat and noticed Buck's frequent gaze over towards the young women, "She's something else, huh?"_

"_What?" Buck stirred glancing at his friend._

_Hoobler gave a practice swing and nodded towards the sideline, "Ruby."_

"_Oh yeah, she really is," Buck clapped him on the shoulder, "I'm glad for yah, Hoobs. She's a real looker."_

"_And Lucille too." Hoobler knocked the bat against the side of his shoe and shot his friend a sly grin, "Enough to make you forget about the girls back home, huh Buck?"_

_Buck gave him a quick punch to the shoulder and shoved him towards home plate, "Get out of here, Hoobler."_

_The game was winding down by late afternoon. Gathering up their stuff, the group made its way towards the village to clean up before hitting the local pub. Throwing his catchers gear into a draw string, canvas bag, Buck swung it over his shoulder._

"_You didn't do too bad out there, Swain." Buck came up alongside her as Hoobler and Ruby slowed down, hanging back from the group._

"_I was alright." Lucille chuckled, "You're being nice."_

_David Webster had been taking pictures with his Kodak Vigilant Junior since the last time he had been struck out. He stopped in front of Buck who held up a hand in front of his face._

"_What the hell are you doing, Web?" Buck protested._

"_For posterity's sake, c'mon Compton."_

_Impulsively, Buck reached out and grasped Lucille by the waist at the last second before Webster snapped the picture._

"_There you go, that wasn't too painful." Webster commented dryly as he twirled the lens and walked away._

_Lucille stumbled back a step, pushing the hair from her face with a wide eyes, "What was that?"_

_Buck bit back a cringe at what he had done and attempted a cool shrug, "You know, for posterity's sake."_

They had eaten a near silent dinner of boiled white fish and potato wedges, the remnants of their earlier conversation sticking to them like leeches. After the dishes were washed, Buck had mumbled something about a cigar and disappeared out the back door. Lucille folded her and Ruby's clean linens that she had rescued from the clothes line before the weather had rolled in. Ruby and Hoobler were absent. The house was strangely quiet without their jokes and charming squabbles.

Lucille meandered out onto the back porch where Buck was listening to the radio. A light rain was ticking on the tin roof over them. Buck sat with his legs splayed and a cigar half smoked, his gaze dull as he watched the rain. The news crackled out followed with a piece by Artie Shaw. Lucille leaned up against the porch post facing him.

"I don't want to go back." He admitted, tapping the ash into the tray beside him, "That first time we were all ready to go shoot us some Krauts. But now- I can't think of anything I'd rather not do."

After a moment, Lucille let out a breathy laugh, "Look at you, Buck Compton. Sitting there, telling me you don't want to be a hero."

His eyes trailed over to her where she stood. He drew the cigar from his mouth as his brow furrowed quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

She stepped forward and sat down on his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck. Thoughtfully, she straightened out the collar of his khaki shirt.

"Someone who doesn't want to go into danger but does anyway simply because it's the right thing to do? That sounds pretty heroic to me."

_Later that evening at the Pub, while trying to focus on a game of darts, Buck's attention kept drifting towards Lucille where she sat by Ruby at the bar. George Luz had been in fine form, pulling out all the stops to try and make her laugh. Buck tried not to be jealous that the man was certainly successful._

"_Any word from Celia lately, Buck?"_

_Johnny Martin threw a dart and glanced knowingly over his shoulder at the lieutenant. He arched a heavy eyebrow with a shrewd grin. Buck cleared his throat, aiming for the center of the board._

_"Can it, Pee Wee."_

"_But seriously, Buck," He came up alongside him after his turn and nudged his shoulder, "You aren't married to the girl, hell you aren't even engaged. Just go talk for a bit with Miss Kansas over there, it can't hurt. I mean c'mon, you can't do any worse than Luz."_

_Buck sighed. Taking one more turn, he finished off his pint and gave Johnny a partial salute. Johnny lifted his stein and hollered for George Luz to take a turn at the dart board._

_Filling the spot at the bar that George had left vacant, Lucille glanced over her shoulder at him from a conversation she was having with Ruby. He motioned for the bar tender, his mind going blank of all conversation._

_Lucille swiveled around in the bar stool, "In all honesty, from a man who played college ball at UCLA so they say, how'd I look out there today?"_

_Buck laughed as a pint of beer was slid down the counter towards him, "In all honesty, I say you looked pretty good."_

"_Just pretty good?" The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, "You certainly know how to flatter a girl, Compton."_

_He relaxed and leaned up against the bar, meeting her shoulder with his, "Ah you know, it's a talent of mine."_

"_How modest of you to admit it," She rolled her eyes playfully as she took a drink from her glass._

"_You know, you don't seem like a Minister's daughter to me," He grinned._

"_It's a talent of mine." Lucille winked._

_Buck took a long pull from his beer and knew he was in trouble._

The front door crashed open, shattering the quiet.

"Ruby! Please honey, don't cry-" Hoobler's pleas were cut short by the sound of Ruby's door slamming shut upstairs.

Silently, Buck narrowed his eyes at Lucille who pursed her lips. Hoobler roughly opened the back screen door.

"Hey kids, what'd you know- what'd yah say." He slurred.

He sat down hard on the bench at the end of the porch and tucked a cigarette between his teeth.

"Everything okay?" Lucille asked quietly.

Hoobler flicked his lighter, "Where were you tonight, Buck?"

"Here," Buck ventured, eyeing his friend evenly, "What's the word?"

"We're heading out for the marshaling area tomorrow." Hoobler took a deep drag and leaned back in the bench, "Pack up all your shit because we ain't coming back anytime soon."

_After about an hour, George had given up trying to regain the ground he had lost with Lucille. From the way she acted towards Buck, he wondered if George had ever truly had a chance._

"_So your dad fought in the Great War on the Canadian side?"_

_Lucille nodded, "His family is originally from Vancouver. Lost three of his brothers at the Battle of the Somme."_

_A strand of hair fell into her face as she set down her half empty glass. His good sense dulled by the beer, he reached out and curled it behind her ear. She peered over at him as the tips of his fingers brushed briefly down her neck. Blushing, she looked away. Buck coughed._

_The bartender called out closing time. As their eyes met again, Buck found himself deciding to send Celia the letter he had been debating over for some time._

That night, Buck made love to her with the sorrowful urgency of a man on death row. As he had collapsed breathless onto her, the stubble on his chin leaving her bare shoulder raw, Lucille had turned her face away. Subtly, she brushed at the dampness edging around the corner of her eye.

They dozed for maybe an hour, the rain picking up and then lessening outside the half-open window. Lucille woke first at midnight. Buck had fallen asleep with his ear pressed against her heart as though he was clinging to the life it gave with every thrum. Running the tips of her fingers through his short, white blonde waves, her eyes were drawn to the space under her door. Someone had turned on the hall light and the glow crept unwelcome across the floorboards.

There was a soft knock.

"Compton?" Hoobler's hoarse whisper stirred Buck who lifted his head sharply, bleary eyed in the faint light, "Buck, they are going to be looking for us back at Camp."

"I hear you. Be right down." Buck replied, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Silently, he rose from the bed. Lucille drew the sheet up and held it to her collar bone as he dressed in the dark. She tried to ignore the stifled crying coming from Ruby's room. Buck sat down on the bed, blousing his pants over his boots in the manner of a paratrooper. She felt a lurch in her stomach at the thought of him free falling from the belly of a plane straight into a barrage of enemy fire. The images of fallen paratroopers hanging from trees where they had been shot down like strange birds flew through her mind. She wished Buck hadn't told her about them. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his thick upper arm.

"I am so glad I met you," He managed, resting his lips against her hair, "Lucie, I promise to do my very best to return to you."

"You don't need to promise me anything, Buck." Lucille whispered, her throat was threatening to close up with grief, "I know you will."

She looked up, her eyes glazing over. Buck grasped her by the back of the neck. He kissed her hard, despite the choked sob that escaped from her mouth. Letting her go, he pressed his forehead one more time against hers and stood brusquely, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Lucille fell back into the sheets that still smelled of him and curled tightly onto her side. She kept her weeping quiet as she wearily felt the welcoming arms of sleep take her. Half awake, she realized they had forgotten to turn off the radio on the porch below her window. A few faint bars of "Moonlight Serenade" drifted on the misty breeze into the room.


	5. Incident

**Mid September, 1944**

Ruby dropped the surgical instruments into the sink and stumbled back, her eyes glued on the view beyond the window. Out in the late afternoon gloom, there was a dark cloud mushrooming from one of the training fields.

"What the hell was that?" Lucille rushed into the room.

Leaning over the sink in front of Ruby, she studied the haze of smoke as it dissipated into the atmosphere. Ruby stood frozen, her finger cut by one of the scalpels and bleeding down her palm. Lucille noticed her friend's injury. Grabbing a spare bandage from nearby, she wrapped Ruby's ring finger tightly.

"Stalwhite! Stal-" Masie French burst into the room, her brown eyes so round they occupied almost half of her square face, "Stalwhite, Swain, there has been an accident. Sister Chantal needs us down in courtyard."

Lucille took off after Masie. It was only when she was out the door that she noticed Ruby was not with them.

"Ruby!" She hollered, sticking her head back into the room, "Now!"

Ruby jolted, glancing down at her hand as though only then realizing she had hurt herself. She peered over at the door with distant eyes, her face blanched so white that it sent a chill down Lucille's spine.

"Come on!"

Wordlessly, Ruby stirred. Lucille didn't wait for her as she barreled down the twisting staircase. Gasping, she ran up to the small group of young women congregating around the head nurse.

"…we haven't been told yet how many to expect but they should be transported here within the next ten minutes. I know you haven't experienced wounds of this nature but you have had your training. I expect you to perform to the best of your abilities."

Sister Chantal's normally pleasant countenance was drawn thin. There was a tick at the hollows of her cheeks as she spoke and her voice was tremulous. Seeing her in such a state was more frightening than the explosion itself.

There was the whirr of sirens as the vehicles transporting the wounded men made their way through town. Lucille swallowed hard, glancing over her shoulder to see Ruby standing behind her. The girls didn't speak. Ruby gave Lucille a reassuring nod, her dark red lips tight.

The first of the ambulances pulled up along the damp cobblestones to the entrance of the hospital.

* * *

"Have you got the artery, Swain?" Sister Chantal asked breathlessly as the ambulance drivers helped her lift the wounded man onto the stretcher.

Lucille struggled to get a hold on the slippery vein, electric with blood. She pinched the severed artery from the ruins of his leg between her thumb and forefinger. Despite the man's grey complexion, his striking blue eyes were hyper alert. Lucille tried not to think of the pain he was in as they carried him up to the infirmary.

The event had been the result of a careless mistake by a new Lieutenant training a group in artillery. The officer had been killed in the blast along with one other new replacement. There had been ten wounded with a couple in very serious condition, like the man who had the bottom part of his shin blown off. For a group of nurses who had never seen raw combat wounds, the women were drained by the time their shift was done.

"Swain?" Sister Chantal called from her office as Lucille and Ruby passed by her door.

Lucille stopped, Ruby pausing further down the hall. There was a smear of blood on Ruby's neck underneath her chin. She shrugged with a nod.

"See you at home, old lady."

Lucille folded her hands behind her back, her fingers tinged pink despite how hard she had scrubbed them. It looked as though she had been canning strawberry preserves. Sister Chantal stood from her desk as Lucille entered the room. There was a folder in front of her with Lucille's picture pinned to the cover.

"Please take a seat, Swain. Lord knows, you deserve the rest." Sister Chantal waved to a chair, "I am reluctant to talk to you about this now, especially after the day we have had," The nun's small spectacles reflected the lamplight from where they perched on her aquiline nose, "Let me preface this by telling you how very impressed I was with your conduct today. You worked as calmly and efficiently as any field nurse I remember seeing during the Great War."

"Thank you, Sister." Lucille managed to rasp, her throat raw and mouth parched.

"I will cut to the quick. We have received word that there is a need for replacements on the continent. When I spoke with the other sisters about who would be best to fill quota, your name came up."

Lucille blinked, "The continent?"

"I assume you won't be on the front line. But there is a dire need in France and perhaps soon Belgium as the troops move further towards Germany."

"Who else is being considered?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Sister Chantal's gaze shifted down to the table, "And I would not want to as not to let that influence your decision."

"You are giving me the choice?"

"Yes," Sister Chantal paced to the front of the desk, resting back against it wearily, "Some of the other Sisters are not but I want to give you the chance to say no." She removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, "War is an ugly thing to witness up close. What happened today was minimal. I won't lie to you. If you go, what you see over there you may end up carrying for the rest of your life. I speak from experience."

Lucille studied the middle aged nun's weary face and tried to imagine her as a young woman on the fields of France in the last Great War. She wondered if Sister Chantal had taken the cloth before or after she witnessed what men could do to each other in battle.

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course, today is not the day to give your consent. But I must know by the end of the week." Sister Chantal gave her a fatigued smile and nodded towards the door, "Go home and get some rest now. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Sister."

A bitter drizzle was picking up in the half light of evening. The temperature had fallen hard since the frigid clouds had swept in from the hills. Her breath dissolving into white plumes before her face, Lucille puckered her coat collar around her neck.

By the time she made it to her front door, it was nearly a downpour. Ruby had only turned on the small table lamp in the front hall. Making her way through the near dark, Lucille opened the back door. Music drifted unheard over Ruby who sat with the orange cat in her lap. She had named the creature Rufus after finding him crying like a starved child on their front step soon after the 101st had been sent away. Wrapped in an old crocheted blanket, her hand lay motionless on the sleeping cat's arched back.

Without saying anything, Lucille trudged over to the bench at the end of the porch. She propped her elbow on its wicker arm and watched the rain in silence.

"I ran into Masie as I was leaving and she said Sister Chantal asked if she wanted to become a field nurse." Ruby broke the quiet, "Was that what she asked you?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell her?"

Lucille rocked forward to her feet, biting her thumb nail as she leaned up against a porch post.

"She said I could have some time to think about it."

"Lucie," Ruby turned off the radio as Rufus leaped from her lap, "You have to decide for yourself, okay? I don't think I will be asked. I don't have that gift you and Masie possess."

"I'm thinking about more than what you'll end up doing, Ruby." Lucille's hand brushing briefly over her abdomen as it fell to her side, "I have other things to consider."

Ruby studied her. She picked up a new pack of Lucky Strikes sitting on the radio. Lighting one, she sauntered towards her. Lucille realized that she was wearing a worn t-shirt of Hoobler's that he had left behind. There was a falling paratrooper in the middle with the words "Camp Toccoa" printed underneath. Lucille's eyes snapped away.

"Did I ever tell you about my mother's side of the family?" Ruby tapped the ash from her cigarette out into the rain.

"No, I don't think so."

Ruby snorted, "I suppose I can trust you with a dirty little secret. My grandmother was a gypsy."

Lucille peered over at her with a surprised grin, "A gypsy? Like the one in 'The Wolf Man'?"

"Oh goodness, dear me. What a fabrication." Ruby rolled her dark eyes, "She wasn't quite that Gothic, thankfully. But we were close when I was a child. Anyway, she had certain… gifts."

Lucille arched a brow, bracing her back against the porch post, "Gifts? What kind of gifts?"

"She knew things intuitively. Sometimes before they even happened."

Biting back a scoff, Lucille crossed her arms over her chest against the chill.

"Anyway," Ruby took a drag from her cigarette, "She used to tell me that I had the same ability. It's nothing I can control, it just happens occasionally."

"Are you telling me you're a fortune teller, Ruby?"

"Nothing so archaic. I merely get feelings sometimes."

In the hedge, lined by the dead, rain blackened remains of their garden, a crow lighted abruptly into the air. Its eerie hacking cry echoed in the otherwise silent evening. Lucille tightened her arms around herself.

Ruby took a deep breath, "This afternoon, when the explosion happened… I just knew."

"Knew what?"

"Donald Hoobler will not be coming home to me."

Ruby shuddered, swallowing hard, "That's ridiculous stuff, Ruby. I mean, I respect your relationship with your grandmother but really?" She turned sharply back to the bench, "It sounds like a load of superstitious bunk to me."

"Oh so you don't believe in fate?" Ruby's eyes were damp at the edges.

"No, not at all. It's all a silly delusion."

"What about the fact that you have carried that small copy of the New Testament in your pocket since Buck left? What do you call that?" Smoke drifted from Ruby's full lips, her tone as calm as if she had been discussing the bad weather.

Lucille let out a bark of a laugh, "I call that minister's kid guilt."

"I don't think so. If you were guilty about something, you would be running from God and not towards Him."

Lucille was speechless, suddenly feeling like she was having one of her notorious conversations with her mother. She rose and strode towards the door.

"I'm going to take a bath."

"Lucille," Ruby leveled her with a dark, knowing stare, "What do you have to feel guilty about now that you didn't before Buck left? What's going on that you aren't telling me?"

Hesitating with her hand on the door frame, Lucille cast her gaze to the floor, "I think there are still some leftovers from the other night. I don't feel like cooking, do you?"

Ruby was silent for a moment. Her figure relaxed as she edged towards the radio.

"No, not tonight." She turned the knob as Lucille exited into the kitchen.

Ella Fitzgerald's rich voice singing "My Melancholy Baby" glided up the stairs as Lucille tramped to the bathroom.

After her bath, Lucille got her period. She nearly collapsed on the black and white tiled floor with relief.


	6. Manipulation

Exhaling slowly, Ruby laid the letter on the kitchen table. She rested her forehead on her fingertips and glanced over to Maisie with eyebrows raised. Lucille had her back to them, striking a match by the stove. She lit one of the eyes and set their little red kettle on it.

"What do you think?" She asked, resting with her back against the counter.

Ruby handed the letter to Maisie French who took a bite of biscuit before adjusting her glasses. Ruby calmly blinked over at Lucille.

"Well, it's candid."

"Too candid?"

"Perhaps," Ruby shrugged, "But if it wasn't then it wouldn't be you. Remember, I'm British. I have my mother's voice in my head telling me to stuff away all those pesky feelings till death do us part."

Lucille gave a shaky laugh, her gaze skirting across the black and white tiles beneath her feet, "It's been a while since I heard from him. One letter, that's it."

"I feel like if something truly serious had happened to him, Donald would have mentioned it."

"Me too." Lucille bit her lip, "I have to tell him somehow. I think he'd want to know I was heading to France."

"We aren't being shipped out until late November," Maisie mumbled as she read, "What's the rush?"

Ruby snorted, "That's how Lucille operates. Lucie, don't you think that maybe you don't need to tell him? What do you owe him?"

"You thought you were pregnant?" Maisie peered over the edge of the letter in surprise

The kettle let out a shrill whistle. Lucille turned silently. She filled the tea pot before snugging the stained warmer around it as their afternoon tea steeped.

"It was right after they left." Lucie opened the overhead cabinet and pulled out three cups with their matching saucers, "Clearly, I'm not pregnant or I wouldn't be going to the front. But the whole thing got me thinking."

"As it should have." Ruby mumbled with an edge of irritation, "I can't believe he left without talking to you about what your little fling meant to him. If the two of you were serious or not."

"He was being sent into combat, I didn't think I had the right to ask." Lucille offered lamely, her gaze flickering up to Ruby's glare and then quickly away.

"That didn't stop Donald from having the conversation." Ruby stood restlessly from the kitchen table, "I don't like any of this, Lucie. I can't lie to you. It's not like you to kowtow to what makes someone else comfortable without a thought for yourself."

"Are you saying I should be selfish?"

"No, I'm saying you should be assertive. When you get around that man, you change and not for the better. It's not like you to lose your spine."

The heat rose to Lucille's face as Ruby marched coolly over to the tea pot and poured herself a cup. Though she knew she was right, Lucille fought the urge to strangle her dear friend and flat mate.

"Tell us how you really feel, Ruby." Maisie muttered dryly as Ruby handed her a cup.

"Seriously." Lucille belted her arms over her chest and tried not to look cross, "So much for bottling it all up like a good little Limey."

Ruby shot her a glare and opened her mouth.

"You might not be pregnant, but I know who is." Maisie interjected smoothly with a knowing smirk.

The other girls slapped their attention fully on the petite blonde from Illinois. Maisie's eyes widened conspiratorially as she rested her chin on her knuckles.

Lucille inhaled swiftly, "You don't mean-"

"Ruth? Yes, that's why she hasn't been at the hospital this week. They are preparing to send her home, wherever that is." Maisie sipped her tea.

"That explains quite a few things," Ruby tapped the table with a red fingernail, "I suppose this is as good a time as any."

"A good time for what?"

Lucille sank into a chair at the table. Ruby shifted her weight, her dark eyes trained on the empty flower vase on the sill. Rufus meandered out from under the table cloth and wound himself around Ruby's thin ankles.

"You are taking Ruth's place and coming with us, aren't you?" Maisie stated, putting two and two together. "You are coming to the front."

For some reason, Lucille felt her heart sink into her stomach, "Are you sure you are okay with that?"

Leaning down, Ruby picked up the marmalade tom cat, "Sister Chantal asked me yesterday. I have put a lot of thought into it. I didn't join the Nurse Corps to be safe, I did it to do my bit."

"Churchill finally got to you, huh?" Maisie grinned, "I think this will be great. The three of us will have a much better go of it together."

"That's what I thought too." Ruby met Lucille's concerned gaze with a shrug, "I mean, how bad can it be?"

At that comment, the image of the boy with half a leg, his artery slipping from her fingers as he was lifted onto a stretcher, burst into Lucille's brain. Sister Chantal's warning drifted through her conscious, _what you see over there you may end up carrying for the rest of your life_. She gave Ruby a weak smile, picking up the letter and folding it neatly.

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

* * *

Her hand hovering over the red mailbox, Lucille paused. She shut the metal chute reading 'Post' with a clang and stepped back. Tapping the sealed envelope on her open palm, she shifted her gaze skyward as a thick cloud column marched over the morning sun.

She wondered if she was being manipulative, casually mentioning her pregnancy scare in the letter. Part of her wanted to be manipulative, dig him out of the comfortable ease she had allowed and make him talk. War or not, she deserved to know what he wanted from her. Lucille had been coaching herself to accept whatever answer he had to give.

A hint of a smile crossed over her face. She had a knack for finding the best climbing trees as a child. It would be well neigh on dinner time and Pastor Swain would be doing his best to coax his youngest daughter down from whatever branches she had scurried up. In the violet twilight bleeding across the wide Kansas sky, she would cover her ears and stare up into the fading horizon as the stars appeared.

It seemed she had gotten herself up another tree with Buck Compton. However, between Ruby and her own heart's truth, she was ready to listen to reason. Perhaps it was selfish to expect so much from a man who faced death regularly.

Or perhaps, he was the one expecting too much of her.

Lucille swiveled her scuffed, brown leather Oxfords. She slipped the envelope into the box then made her way to the hospital.

* * *

There was the furious snap and whizz of bullets. The German M1s hacked away like a child with the croup as enemy tanks crashed down the village of Nuenen. Air sick with smoke and the maddening incessancy of firepower, the cries for retreat came swiftly.

_Fall back! _

Buck nearly tripped as he herded his men down into a ditch leading out of the village.

_Fall back!_

A tank behind them exploded into lightening shards of deadly metal. The roar resounded in his lungs as he hollered to his platoon.

_Fall back! _

The gravel road hovered beneath a white hot sun and searing blue horizon. Buck's mind retreated to the brief memory of Lucille Swain. She covered her eyes with her hand to peer up at him the first time they met. Her eyes were that same shade, the color he imagined stained the sky back in her Midwestern home. It was all in a second; the second it took for the Kraut bullet to rip through him.

His bulky, athletic form collapsed into the dry bed of the ditch.

It was something that had always been in the back of his mind but he had never truly believed would happen to him. He brought his trembling hand to his face while Don Malarkey was yelling for Doc. There was blood on his fingertips; the first sign of mortality. He could still die here. From the feel of it, this bullet hadn't done the final job but the next one could be it. Or it could miss him and hit Malarkey in the forehead. Shrapnel could sink into Skip Muck's neck while they hunkered down waiting for the medic. He was powerless to keep them all safe.

As powerless as he would be to keep Lucille from harm when she arrived in France. Even recently, he had been ineffective in her aid while she waited to see if she carried his child or not.

_I don't know if it is wise for me to tell you but I couldn't keep it to myself…_

The words from her letter buried in his jacket pocket next to her picture flew through his brain. A drop of blood pearled on his forefinger and fell onto his chin.

_Right after you left, I thought I was going to have a baby. I was almost positive at the time. But thankfully, that's not the case. _

There were too many questions in that heartbeat of a moment. What if she had been pregnant? What if that bullet had been a little lower or a little higher and killed him? What if he had left her just like that; a split second tragedy leaving unmarried Lucille Swain to bring home a fatherless child.

_Buck, I need you to tell me. If we survive this thing, what will I be to you?_

_If_ we survive. _I__f_ he survived. There were too many questions.

Another explosion jolted his senses back to him as Doc Roe raced over. Buck blinked up into a rolling veil of white cloud mixing with smoke.

"Hey Doc." He swallowed hard.

"…gone right through." Buck caught Roe say over the chaotic din.

The Krauts could take care of him, it was the only way he could get them all out of there. He was too big to be carried. However, Malarkey wouldn't hear of it.

Buck clung with one hand to the splintered end of a hen house door as his men dragged him away from the violence.

_If… if… if…_

The word repeating with the same fury as the skidding bullets ricocheting off the road. Lucille's letter biting into his chest, Buck clamped his eyes shut.

It was almost too much.

Almost. But still, Buck hung on this time.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Ella Enchanted: First of all, "Ella Enchanted" has been one of my favorite novels since I was ten years old. I LOVE your name (: Second, your English is fabulous so don't you worry a bit! I am SO happy you have enjoyed this story! It's quickly becoming one of my favorites to write just because Buck and Lucille are so darn complicated. It keeps things interesting (; I'm a big Buck fan in the series as well. I was shocked there wasn't much on here for him. I wish more writers would come up with some good Buck fics. You were too sweet to drop a line, I really appreciate it. It means a lot, thank you (: You have a wonderful weekend as well!**


	7. Uninvited

**Author's Note: Oh my goodness, I had forgotten how much fun this pairing was to write. They are so dang dramatic. This chapter is just miscommunication city. I'm sorry for the hiatus but I have a good idea on where this is going now. I had to take a step back to reroute a few things. **

* * *

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" He asked in his crisp accent.

Lucille glanced up from the clipboard with a furrowed brow. Giving a tentative smile, the British officer tightened his double handed grip on his hat. He restlessly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn't as confident as he sounded. She shrugged.

"I have some packing to do." She commented before walking down the hall.

"Oh yes. Ruby mentioned your train was leaving tomorrow afternoon." He followed close behind.

Charlie Ramsden had recovered from his wounds and was awaiting orders. Lucille liked him but was acutely aware of the crush he had been harboring for her. She paused at the nurse's station. Ruby was sitting at a desk pushed against the wall. Her gaze casually drifted towards them.

"I guess that means you will be busy for most of the evening?" He scratched the back of his thick neck.

"No, she won't." Ruby muttered, biting the end of her pencil as she surveyed some paperwork, "She's almost finished with her trunk."

Lucille set down the clipboard and shot a glare at her flat mate. Her fellow nurse didn't glance up but a hint of a smile tugged at her mouth.

"In that case," Charlie's honey brown eyes widened, "Lucille, would you allow me the honor of taking you to dinner this evening?"

Lucille's face relaxed, her eyes drifting to his boots. She honestly couldn't think of an excuse to turn down such a gentlemanly request. Charlie was a good man; solid, sensible with an easy smile and an honest way about him.

"My shift ends around five this evening." Lucille conceded meeting his eyes once more.

Charlie smiled widely, "Then I'll be around your place say 5:30?"

"That will work."

"Good, very good then." He stepped back, studying her with a grin, "5:30, I'll be there."

He pivoted and strode towards the hospital doors. Lucille watched him for a moment, bringing the clipboard to her chest and hugging it. He had the exact build as Buck; tall and broad with arms like machine gun barrels. She had heard somewhere that he was an athlete as well. He could play a mean game of cricket. But that was where their similarities ended. Even their coloring was different; Charlie was as dark as Buck was fair.

"Now that-" Ruby approached, bumping their shoulders together and pointing in the direction he went with her pencil, "_That_ is the kind of man you marry. You know where you stand with a bloke like Charlie Ramsden."

"You certainly do." She replied simply, "He is nice."

"That would be a change for you." Ruby chirped before clipping down the hallway.

By the time Lucille left the hospital, a damp snowfall was spitting from a partially clouded sky. The western horizon was soft yellow like crocuses in spring. Lucille pulled her mittens on, smiling to herself as she strode out into the cobblestone courtyard. Her mother's garden would be overrun with green buds in a few months. Despite her intense focus their victory vegetables, Mrs. Swain could never put aside her flowers. The memory left a bittersweet ache in Lucille's chest.

"What are you so happy about, Lucie Swain?"

She halted hard in front of the covered archway leading to the street. A broad figure moved out of the shadows, one hand in a pocket while the other lightly held a cigarette at his side. Her mouth went dry. A drift of smoke escaped from his mouth as he chuckled lightly.

"I could knock you over with a feather." Buck smirked, the crinkles around his sky blue eyes deepening, "I have to say, I missed that smile."

Lucille's heart lurched. Her jaw tightening, she marched forward. She brushed past him coolly.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just got released from the hospital in London." He tossed the cigarette to the damp ground, skipping a step to catch up, "Hey wait a minute, where you going so fast?"

"I have a date."

"You have a what?" He gently grasped her forearm, bringing her to a stop on the sidewalk, "Slow down. Don't you want to know why I was in the hospital?"

"I already know." She snapped, tearing herself from him with a roll of her eyes, "Ruby told me. Hoobler wrote about it in one of his letters. Hear those key words there, Slick? _Letter_? _Wrote_? You should try it sometime."

She swiveled but he caught her arm again. This time she didn't wrestle it away.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Lucie." He wet his lower lip, gaze shifting across her face, "I just- it wasn't easy, over there. You don't know."

"I will soon enough."

"You told me." His Adam's apple jumped up his throat, "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

He snorted and let her go, "Do you think this is going to be some kind of adventure?"

"No, they need us over there."

"They need you."

"Yes."

"They need _you_. Lucille Swain. Nobody else could do it."

"I was asked explicitly!" Her tone was shrill as she stomped a firm step towards him, "I'm one of the best girls in there and they all know it."

He scoffed, pivoting towards the street. Digging into the pocket of his uniform, he dug out another cigarette.

"Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

He flicked his lighter several times to no avail. Her breathing evened as she studied him. His brow furrowed and lips curled tightly around the cigarette. With a sigh, she pulled her own lighter out of her pocket.

"Haven't we had that conversation before?" She asked softly, snapping a flame to life from the Bick and holding it to his mouth.

He drew a slow breath. A soft glow beckoned the smoke to life. He met her eyes as she let her hands drop.

"The idea of you out there…" Breaking eye contact, he brought the cigarette from his mouth, "It's hard for me to think about."

"Why is that?"

The edge of his mouth tugged down, "I don't know why."

Lucille's eyes cut to the street as his weak response thudded into her gut. After months of silence, she deserved a direct answer. He had yet to explain what she was to him. All of this left her even more confused.

"I'm already running late." She murmured, pushing back her sleeve to peek at her wrist watch, "Glad to see you're healthy. Goodbye, Buck."

She strode towards home. He didn't try to catch up with her this time.

* * *

As they meandered through the dark streets, Charlie reached out for her hand. The evening had been pleasant and she would have enjoyed it more, if she hadn't run into Buck earlier. She smiled and talked about surface subjects. Charlie cracked jokes and she laughed, even though some of them weren't very good. She let him grasp her fingers in his and bit her lip.

Lucille was comfortable with Charlie. However, the hollowness in his pleasant words and the failed expectation for a spark to pop to life between them all fell flat. She swallowed down her disappointment and did her best not to think of Buck.

"I hate that you leave tomorrow." He commented as they walked through the front gate.

"I enjoyed tonight." She managed.

She took the first step up, Charlie remaining on the brick walk. He let go of her hand as she rustled through her clutch for her keys.

"I should get to bed." She shrugged with a half-smile, "We are expecting a long day tomorrow."

"Who else is going with you and Ruby?"

"Masie French? Have you met her?"

"Glasses, right?"

"Yes," Lucille replied curtly, "Good luck to you, Charlie. Where ever they end up sending you."

With her on the stoop, they stood at eye level. Charlie moved forward. She turned her cheek in time for him to give her a peck beside her ear. He pulled back, his cheeks coloring as he glanced away. Lucie smiled a mite too brightly, her feet itching to get inside.

"Well, good night." He broke his grimace with a nod.

"Good night."

Lucille shut the door behind her, closing her eyes to the shadowed foyer. Ruby wouldn't be home till midnight. She strode towards the kitchen. Setting her clutch on the table, she unbuttoned her coat. Lucille moved towards the window over the sink to close the blackout curtains. The soft murmur of music made her pause. She peeked out onto the porch and saw the muted glow of the radio on the floorboards. Perhaps Ruby had been released early.

The door clicked shut behind her as she emerged into the winter night. Lucille peered towards the bench at the end of the porch. There was the glow of a cigarette. His features illuminated.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I got uncomfortable on the front step." Buck smirked, resting forward on his knees, "I wanted to see you."

She shifted on her feet, crossing her arms over her chest.

"How was your date?" His voice was tense as he blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Fine."

"Who is he?"

"He's from Bath. An RAF pilot."

"A Limey, huh?" Buck ran his fingers over his knuckles, "How will that go over back home? With Pastor and Mrs. Swain?"

"It was just a date. Charlie didn't ask me to marry him."

Lucille felt a swell of satisfaction as Buck's shoulders hunched back sharply. She meandered to the porch post facing him and pressed her spine against it. Lucille lifted her chin imperiously.

"What makes you think you can show up at my house like this?" She snapped, "What if I had invited him in for a drink?"

"C'mon, Lucie." He snarled, "We both know that's not your style."

"It was with us."

A tick in her throat threatened to betray her but she kept her face straight. Buck lifted his eyes, the lines on his forehead softening. His mouth parted, jaw jutting forward.

"Yeah, but we're different." Buck stumped out the cigarette and rose to his feet, "We've always been different."

Tommy Dorsey's _Indian Summer_ slithered into the space between them. Buck closed the distance leisurely till he was standing over her. He didn't touch her but stood an inch away.

"He tried to kiss me, you know." She breathed, attempting coolness, "On the mouth."

"I don't doubt it." Buck smoothed her hair from her shoulder, his worn fingertips grazed her neck, "Did you let him?"

"On the cheek."

Buck scoffed softly, bending his face towards hers, "Poor Charlie."

Their noses brushed briefly. He gently teased her mouth with his own, his hand lightly coming to rest below her ribs. A low sound rumbled in his throat, setting her blood humming. She inhaled sharply, gripping the post behind her.

"Why do we keep on doing this?" She whispered.

Grasping her hips, he pulled her against him firmly, "Would you stop asking questions and kiss me, Lucille?"

As his tongue breached her lips, she knew she was a lost cause. She always was where he was concerned. She was clay in Buck's hands and willing to be every time.

* * *

Facing the dark window, Lucie lay on her side away from him. Buck was on his back, propped up by a pillow. Her head rested on his forearm.

"What happened over there?" She broke the silence.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke. He had been smoking quite often since she had first seen him that afternoon.

"I got hit." He scoffed curtly, "Nothing really more to say about it."

"How did it happen?"

"Well, you see," He trailed a couple fingertips down between her shoulder blades, her skin prickling at his touch, "There was a man with a gun and he aimed or _tried_ to because he missed everything vital and got me in the ass."

Lucille snorted, flipping onto her belly. She propped herself up on her elbows, her hair falling loose over her bare shoulders. Buck drew the cigarette from his mouth, wetting his lips as his gaze drifted over her.

"Christ, Lucie." He sighed.

Lucille's eyes cut down to her hands. Setting the cigarette on the bedside table, Buck slid down against her. He brushed her hair onto her back and pressed his lips to top of her arm.

"You never answered my question."

"I just did." He murmured into her skin, his arm snaking around her hips.

"The one in the letter." Her breath caught in her throat as his mouth brushed below her ear, "When I asked you what I was to you."

Buck hesitated, briefly burying his face in her hair, "I remember."

"Can you tell me now?"

She slipped onto her back and peered up at him. Her heart thudded hard in her chest as his eyes drifted away.

"I need to know, Buck." She whispered, "Please."

Downstairs, the front door creaked opened. Ruby rustled into the kitchen. With her bedroom lights off, Lucie knew they wouldn't be disturbed. She inwardly cringed at what her friend would have to say about her midnight tryst with Buck. No doubt, Ruby would sulk and give her the cold shoulder for a couple hours before bursting at the seams with her opinion. It was the usual response.

"It isn't fair to leave me wondering." She admitted.

He sighed, "I know it isn't. But I feel if I made any promises right now, it wouldn't be fair either."

"What do you mean?"

Buck slowly rested his head against her chest, his ear pressed to her heart as he had done the night before he had left. Her hand went to his crown, her fingers brushing against his feathery curls.

"It's difficult to explain." His breath was warm against her skin, "Until you see it…over there. You can't understand-"

"I know it's difficult for you to think of these things at a time like this." Lucie interjected, "But Buck, sometimes I feel like it's a convenient reality for you."

"How is anything about combat convenient?" His replied shortly.

"What I mean is that, is it just an excuse to keep me at bay?"

Buck rose on his elbows and stared hard down at her. A harsh blush erupted on Lucie's cheeks. Her mouth went dry.

"An excuse, huh?" He sat up in bed sharply, swinging his legs off the side, "Is that what you think of me?"

"What? No, I didn't mean to sound-"

"Careless?" He stood, tugging on his boxer shorts and reaching for his shirt on the bed post.

"Buck, wait." Lucie reached out, "Let me explain."

"I think you just did." He pulled his arms into his sleeves, "You think I'm the kind of man to sleep with a girl whenever he hops into town then give her a sob story about how horrible war is then hit the road, twirling my mustache on my way out the door."

Hooking up the button on his pants, he reached for his coat. Lucie leaped from the bed. She grabbed her dressing gown and held it to her breast.

"Buck. Wait." She grasped his arm.

His eyes grazed around the room. He let out a heavy breath through his teeth. Swinging herself into him, Lucie squeezed her eyes shut. She rested her mouth against his collar bone as her fingers curled around his hand.

"Please, I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me." She begged.

"Yes it was." Buck growled.

Despite his agitation, his free hand dropped his coat to the floor and pressed into the exposed small of her back.

"I should have let you explain yourself."

"That would have been nice."

"Will you come back to bed and we can start this whole conversation over?" Lucie let go of her robe and drew her hand up around his neck, "Please?"

"Are you sure?" Buck's voice grew husky as Lucie let her jaw rest against his.

"I'm certain."

They didn't speak again that evening.


End file.
